


speed dial

by ataxophilia



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Beverly is the best, Crime Scenes, Established Relationship, F/M, and the target of their next killer, will is a cutie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:15:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ataxophilia/pseuds/ataxophilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still smiling, she glances up to catch his gaze, her eyes soft. “I’m top of your speed dial,” she says, a little quieter than Will is used to, but not, Will thinks, in a bad way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	speed dial

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

"You got a call?" Price is asking, like it’s not a question Will has been asked a hundred times in the last hour. There are FBI agents swarming his house, going through every possible corner in every single room. His dogs are all penned up so they don’t get in the way, and all Will wants to do is crawl past the makeshift barrier and curl up with them.

Instead, he forces himself to stare at Price’s chin and nod. “At 4:15 in the morning, more or less,” he recites. “Blocked number.” It’s the same call they’ve been seeing on the mobiles of their latest stream of victims, the only factor linking the deaths they’ve found so far. Blocked number, early morning call; within 24 hours, whoever gets the call is dead.

Price makes a noise that could be concern but is most likely just acknowledgement. It’s still not even six am. Most of the agents look like they’re barely awake. Will would feel bad for them - barely awake has been his default setting lately - but he’s too busy trying to work out why he got a call from their mystery killer to pay them much attention beyond a base annoyance at the invasion of his home.

A touch to his shoulder startles him back to reality. It’s only light, a brush of fingers, nothing more, but it’s accompanied by a familiar shampoo-and-deodorant smell that settles the knot in his stomach somewhat.

Beverly presses her hand more solidly once he’s glanced up to meet her eyes. Her eyes are alert, but her hair is still damp from the shower. Will realises she probably showered because she knew that he’d be comforted by the smell, and the thought warms his chest a little, makes the whole situation seem a little more bearable.

"We’ll have to take your phone in," she tells him, ignoring the way Price tuts and mutters something behind her back. "Run some tests, see if we can track the number a little better. Our killer might even call again, if they come for you tonight and can’t find you." She’s smiling, light and easy. The room loses a little of its harshness; Will feels a little more awake.

He fishes his phone out and hands it to her, dropping his eyes to her fingers and watching them instead of her face so he doesn’t have to see the way she drops back into forensics mode. The phone lives in his pocket now, a new development - he never had much use for it until Beverly grabbed it, keyed her number in, and made him promise to text that evening. (“I get bored easily,” she explained. “And a little social contact outside of work wouldn’t hurt you, either.” Their conversations, which started out pretty awkward and very one-sided, fast became one of his favourite things about the day. Everyone else made him confused, brought out the daydreams and the timeskips and the nightmares, but Beverly grounded him, kept him fixed in reality.)

(And, eventually, the texting led to a night at the bar, which led to a fumbling kiss in the street outside, which led to the tentative start of something approaching a relationship.)

Beverly holds the phone back to him so he can key in the passcode, then crouches slightly to flick through his call list and contacts. Will keeps watching her hands, so he notices when they go still briefly, pausing over something she’s seen on the screen.

"What is it?" he asks, lifting his gaze to her face, expecting- worry, or fear, or anything other than the fond smile he sees. "Beverly- What?"

Still smiling, she glances up to catch his gaze, her eyes soft. “I’m top of your speed dial,” she says, a little quieter than Will is used to, but not, Will thinks, in a bad way. There’s a slightly awed edge to her voice, like she’s been granted some great honour, and Will fumbles with his hands, wants to look away but can’t quite make himself.

"Yeah," he mumbles, blinking. "Yeah, well, I- I don’t talk to anyone half as much as I talk to you," he admits. Beverly’s smile gets wider, warmer, and Will feels a blush tugging at his cheeks.

"You’re such a sweetie," she tells him, smile spilling over into a full-blown grin as she leans forward to kiss him in the middle of a crowd of FBI agents. Price scoffs loudly behind her, and someone - Will would guess Zeller, mainly from the way Beverly hisses a laugh into his lips - wolfwhistles, but Beverly just slips her fingers behind his neck and presses a little closer before pulling away. Her face creases into another laugh at something she sees in his expression, and she adds, "You’re at the top of mine, too," as though it’s a love confession. Will thinks maybe it is.

She grins a moment longer, watching until he’s smiling too, and then pushes upright and spins around to hand Price the phone. “You know what to do,” she says, pointedly ignoring the look on Price’s face, and then turns on her heel until she spots Jack. “I’m taking Will back to mine,” she calls to him. “He’ll be safe there until we catch this one, okay?”

Jack looks like he’s going to protest for a moment - Will knows it’s against protocol, agents targeted in serial cases are supposed to be taken to safe houses and kept under proper supervision - but even Jack knows better than to argue with Beverly. He nods instead, face already folding back into the frown he wears when he’s going over case notes, and says, “Get him out of here.”

Beverly is smiling again when she turns back to Will and offers a hand. Will watches that smile as he takes the hand and uses the support to stand back up - thinks of her laughing into kisses, thinks of the way she leans into him when they’re stood together, thinks of the easy way she talks to him, like he’s just another guy - and realises there’s no one he’d rather be leaving with.


End file.
